The King in the Rainwood
by Reptillianbobcat
Summary: A moment of weakness sets in motion a chain of events which will alter the destiny of all Westeros. Now seventeen years later Kurai Baratheon, son of Cersei lannister and Robert Baratheon, battles usurpers and his own traitorous family as he attempts to reclaim his birthright. Will follow canon to an extent, but who knows what a few small changes will lead too. Details inside.


Game of thrones Fic

War Of The Six Kings

AN: So here's something I've been working on the last couple days. I've only started on one other story that wasn't in the anime genre (or at least a crossover with an anime) but I lost the files to that, so we won't think about it. Anyway, as with all my other fics this is gonna include my OC Kurai, as a main character in this case, as well as some other character's I've developed.

If you are familiar with other things I've written, you should already know what to expect from Kurai, but given the different environment, don't take what you know about him as gospel, it's a long road to the Iron Throne. For those who haven't read my other stories, feel free to look on my profile, or just wait and see if you want a surprise, whatever you wanna do.

The premise of this story comes from when I got to thinking, what if Cersei didn't terminate her early pregnancy with Roberts child? I think it'll be interesting to see how that one choice could possibly effect the entire story, which is why I'm writing this :D

I only advise reading this if you have read Song of Ice and Fire, as that is the primary domain of this story, however it will also contain elements of the HBO original series, as there are some things in that which I found interesting, so if you are familiar with both, then this story should not be to confusing. If you don't know anything about either, then you've probably gotten lost in the maze of fan fiction and should turn around before the series is ruined for you, you've been warned.

Also keep in mind I'm by no means an expert, I'll do my best too keep character backstories straight, but there are just so many different sides to a story like Song of Ice and Fire that this may become difficult... props to Mr. Martin for being able to do it.

That being said, I'm only playing around in G.R.R.M's sandbox, this isn't necessarily going to follow canon, in some situations I will be doing things very differently and in other cases things might be very similar, but remember, Valar Morghulis. All men must die; even my favorite characters (R.I.P. Tywin T_T). Though some may live while others die, and some might cling to life a little longer than they should. Some may even die in new and exciting ways, so there's that to look forward too.

Disclaimer: I don't own Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones (I think they're separate entities legally but I'm not entirely sure...)

Now then, Without further delay, The King in the Rainwood.

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An account on Kurai Baratheon

(Excerpts from the memoirs of Grand Maester Pycelle, advisor to six kings over the course of his tenor)

 _The year is 281AC_

 _The birth of prince Kurai Baratheon was remarkably difficult, one of the most difficult I have presided over during my long tenor as grand maester. It is a momentous occasion the birth of this prince; he will reunite the country after the rebellion. A son of both the lion and the stag is a rare thing indeed, but lord Tywin was quite insistent. If there were not risk of a second rebellion, it is doubtful the union would have been made at all, but Lord Tywin is a man willing to put aside his personal interest for the sake of the realm. A wise man indeed._

 _There were a few complications during the pregnancy, at one point I was quite sure queen Cersei was going to lose the baby, but the prince has already shown himself to be a fighter. He was born wailing, strong lungs on the boy, but quickly quieted. A stream of uncles came in when my assistant opened he door. Lord Stannis, young Renly, Tyrion, Ser Jaime and his uncle, Ser Gerion. The men all seemed to approve of the child. The boy was passed around and inspected, even young lord Renly was allowed to hold the babe._

 _With the birth of the Prince, a new dynasty has been established. Though the Baratheon dynasty is still young and feeble, I believe it will last even longer than the Targeryans did._

 _There has been much talk on the small council about the remaining Targaryan's, much of the council advocates killing the children, but no one is quite willing to hire a faceless man to eliminate them. As long as those children live, prince Kurai's position as heir is in question. Will the people accept a new, untried dynasty over one that had given them many years of peace and plenty?_

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The Trident,

Year 280AC

Rheagar

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Steel clanged as Robert knocked aside his sword. The silver haired prince stumbled slightly and Robert capitalized on this, smashing the towering rack of iron antlers that adorned his helm against the prince's shield. Rheagar crashed into the thigh deep water, attempting to crawl back from the stormlord, get back to his forces, which were engaged in pitched battles all along the ford.

The Battle had been going since the early morning, lasting almost till evening, with neither side giving any ground. Tens of thousands of men had already lost their lives in the rivers, choking the mighty current with their corpses. Thousands of names were being made to replace those lost, and all around acts of valor were committed; but none of that mattered to him anymore.

The water was inside his plate, weighing him down, he would not be able to block or dodge. He had failed his house. Failed her. The massive hammer raised into the air, blocking out the sun. With the glare removed, Rheagar could see the rebellion leaders face. He had a wild beard, dark black; and two fierce blue eyes stood out, mad with bloodlust. The hammer started to swing down, and Rheagar's eyes met Robert Baratheon.

"She is mine, and she always will be." Rheagar whispered as the mighty hammer crushed his breastplate, scattering rubies into the ford. The last thing Prince Rheagar Targaryen, heir to the Iron throne heard was Robert Baratheons cry of rage.

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

Eddard

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Lord Eddard Stark, unexpectedly pushed into the position after the death of his father and elder brother, slashed the tip off a spear being wielded by a grim looking foot soldier, a Tarly foot soldier by his surcoat. The mans eyes widened, and in a desperate maneuver he tried to swing the now blunted spear at Eddards head. The young lord ducked under the clumsy swing and dashed forward, impaling the man on his families ancestral greatsword, Ice.

The man let out a gasp as the blade slipped free, and he was glad to see that the mans eyes were already lifeless when he hit the water. Eddard panted as the battle continued to rage on in the choked, swirling waters of the green fork. The loyalist forces were being pushed back inch-by-inch, losing ground slowly to the battle hardened rebel army. Off to his left he saw the bright blue falcon banner of Jon Arryn, standing proud amid the chaos as Lord Arryn directed his forces, steadily pushing the loyalists back.

A few dozen meters down river, he could make out his brother in all but blood engaging the prince in single combat. Robert was steadily pushing the prince back, smashing aside his attacks and roaring like a beast. For those two it was no longer about winning a crown or preserving a dynasty, no, Eddard could tell. The two of them were not fighting for anything so glorious. They were simply fighting over a woman, as men had done all of history.

Hearing the whistle of steel slicing through the air, Eddard ducked, and the white sword of the kingsguard flew over his head. Turning to face this new threat, Eddard was met with the sight of a bloodstained Jon Darry. A trail of corpses lay behind him, but at least one of them had wounded the knight; an arrow protruded from Ser Darry's shoulder and he bled freely from a wound on his shield arm.

Still the knight fought on, trying to reach the battle between Rheagar and Robert, However Eddard was still mostly fresh, with only a few brusies. The knight advanced through the water, struggling to keep his shield up. Eddard swung Ice, smashing it directly into the shield, knocking Ser Darry back into a press of four Targeryan men, who formed up around the knight and started to advance on the young lord of the north. Eddard back tracked a few steps and knocked aside the thrust of a spear from the lead man. As the next man stepped up to exploit the opening his fellow had created, an arrow pierced his eye.

Eddard spun, twirling his sword into a reverse grip and ran the spearman through. The man coughed blood over the back of Eddards chain mail. Turning back to Jon Darry and the men who had formed up around him, Eddard saw Jon Umber holding the wounded, and now disarmed knight up in the air by his throat, laughing loudly as he threw the man into the crowd, knocking another man off his feet. In a swirl of red and pink, Roose Bolton dashed at the downed men, finishing them off quickly.

A bellow rose over the sound of battle, drawing the attention of all those who heard it. Rheagar lay almost completely submerged in the water, which was dark and thick with the blood of thousands of men. Robert stood above him roaring with rage and pain as men, rebel and loyalist alike, dropped to their knees, attempting to pick glittering rubies from the water. A horn sounded form the loyalists and they broke, running from the ford as a cheer rose from the rebel forces.

Another horn sounded from the left flank of the Targaryen army as the blue and gray banner of the Frey's, along with nearly a thousand mounted warriors swept through the loyalists, taking many prisoners. Eddard saw Lord Hoster Tully, his new father in law, shaking his head and frowning deeply as he watched the Freys swarming over the Trident. Walder Frey had kept his men at the Twins, his two castles on the Green Fork for the majority of the war, and now that the rebels had the advantage, he'd decided to pick a side. Lord Hoster along with his two most trusted bannermen, lord's Bracken and Blacktree, who were bitter rivals, rode towards the massive litter which bore lord Frey, who'd long since been hobbled by gout.

Several of Roberts bannermen, as well as lord Arryn and his men were already converging on the Frey. Eddard stumbled a dozen steps towards Robert when he felt a hand close around his ankle. Falling to his knees, Eddard looked back to see the bloody face of Ser Barriston Selmy staring at him with vague recognition.

The knight was in bad shape, having sustained perhaps a dozen wounds, but nearly a dozen knights, fully armored, lay around him, all dead. The old warrior's head fell as he lost consciousness, laying face-down first in the river. Eddard stood and stumbled over to lift Barristons head from the river. Rolling the knight onto his back, Eddard called for the GreatJon to come grab the legendary warrior. As Jon Umber carried Barriston towards the rebel encampment to find aid for the knight, Barriston faded in and out of consciousness, but always his eyes settled on the slowly retreating form of Rheagar, dead in a river with all the common men, and the knight could not help but weep.

Eddard stumbled closer to his brother in all but blood and fell next to him. Robert regarded him with sorrow, leaning on his war hammer. He threw his great horned helmet of his head and laughed a small bitter laugh.

"I killed him Ned, by the gods I killed him!" Robert shouted throwing his head back and laughing louder, Eddard only nodded, watching as the princes silver hair swirled in the water. "Now we can take Kings Landing and get her back Ned, show some excitement." Robert told him, clapping his shoulder, and Eddard could only nod again, feeling a sudden fatigue as the adrenaline rush of battle wore off, falling to one knee, he plucked a ruby from the twisted remains of Rheagars

"What are you going to do about lord Frey, and Barriston Selmy?" He asked, very deliberately changing the subject from his abducted sister.

"Barriston Selmy eh… how did we capture him?" Robert inquired, pulling Eddard to his feet.

"I found him in the river, surrounded by corpses, he tried to fight his way to you and Rheagar."

"Hmm, so he's wounded then. Send my maester to attend to him." Robert told one of the men who had gathered around them. The man ran off to the rebel leaders pavilion and Robert started for the slight rise where Jon Arryn was already shouting at Walder Frey. "Come on Ned, lets go hear what the lord of the crossing has to say, maybe I can smash his chest in too." Robert cackled, pulling Eddard after him.

' _Walder Frey, lets see why you've forsaken your honor_.' Eddard thought, his grip tightening around Ice. They strode through the water slowly and as they made it to the bank, Hoster Tully drew his blade and shoved the point under Walder Frey's chin, tilting the weasely lords head back.

"Stop!" Robert shouted, surging up the bank to the gathered lords, Eddard came to a stop behind him and locked eyes with one of lord Frey's guards, all of which had drawn their swords. If it came to it he would be able to strike the man down in less than two seconds. "Explain to me why you're so late Frey, and maybe I wont kill you. You have one minute." Robert informed the man, resting the head of his warhammer on the ground with both his hands on the pommel.

"W-well my lord, it took some time for me to gather my men, and we were delayed by poor weather, which made the road muddy-"

Robert chuckled and raised a hand, which made the lord of the crossing stop immediately. "Frankly Frey, I'm already bored with your excuses, you've already shown yourself a craven, and I might even go so far as to say oathbreaker if I wasn't in a good mood. So here's what were going to do." Robert told Walder, leaning in over the mans plush litter. Walder crawled back in his cushions, away from the fierce storm lord. "Since I'm apparently going to be king, you're going to serve me, which means you're going to be sending oh… lets say four wards to serve my heir; and if any of them piss me off, I'll siege your castle." Robert told the frey, and the storm lords cheered.

' _He wins either way with those terms…_ ' Eddard thought, and to his left he saw Jon Arryn shaking his head at his foster son.

"Of course, my king is most generous with his mercy!" Walder Frey exclaimed, and Eddard frowned at the man. ' _Robert holding a few of his heirs hostage doesn't matter to Walder Frey. The man could sire an army from his breeches'_ Eddard thought, and behind Robert Hoster Tully snorted at how quickly Walder had accepted the terms. The man would probably benefit from having four of his children or grandchildren so close to the throne anyway.

"That's all!" Hoster exclaimed, striding up to Robert, Take his lands! His titles! Hell, Take his head. Don't let him off so lightly!" The River lord shouted, but Robert simply laughed.

"Leave him be, His reputation in already ruined, let him stew in that." Robert told him, and the assembled lords laughed as Walder Frey turned red.

Eddard watched the man seething with rage and saw that Robert had not been merciful at all. To a man like Walder Frey, pride was everything, and Robert had smashed it just as harshly as Rheagars breastplate.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Kings landing,

281AC

Tyrion

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"Ahhhhhhhh!"

Tyrion winced as he heard his sister screaming in agony in the other room. she'd been in labor for nearly an entire day, and from what Tyrion understood it might be a fatal birth much like his own had been. This was the only birth he had attended during his eleven years alive, and he couldn't wait to attend another of his sisters. He took a perverse joy in her agony.

Next to him Jamie stood, glaring at the king standing across and a little to the left, his hand clenching and unclenching on his sword. Next to Jamie stood his uncle, Gerion Lannister, nicknamed the laughing lion; freshly back from some great adventure in Essos.

Across from the Lannisters stood the Baratheons, Robert, Stannis, and little lord Renly, who was only seven years old. There was still a lot of tension between the families, even nine months after they were joined. It didn't help that Robert had taken a liking to deliberately tormenting Jaime, often tasking him with guarding his bedchamber as he had relations with the queen.

Even at eleven, Tyrion could tell his sister and Robert did not have a happy union. In his opinion it was all Cersei deserved for making his life a living hell. He did not particularly like the king either for tormenting his brother so. Jaime had been one of the few people to treat him well during his short life, the others being his uncles.

Even now he could feel the youngest Baratheons stare, and why shouldn't he stare. Tyrion knew his appearance was quite disgusting, with his mismatched eyes and squashed, brutish features; but he had gotten used to the jibes, gotten used to the name they had pinned upon him.

The Imp. Such a ridiculous name, but the lords and ladies of the realm enjoyed whispering it behind his back.

Roberts bellowing laugh rang out through the hall as uncle Gerion shared a particularly funny joke with the king. The divide between the lion and the stag did not seem to apply to the laughing lion.

He was a man who could fit in anywhere, with a naturally gregarious personality. He was a well travelled man as well. In his youth, the laughing lion had traveled the taverns of the realm, from White Harbor, to Sunspear, and back around to Lannisport, aboard his ship, which shared his name. He was far different than his brothers, who were hard, serious men, his own father especially; preferring to mingle with common folk and spend his nights drinking in taverns.

The door to the kings chamber opened, and grand maester Pycelle shuffled out, running a hand over his long and fluffy white beard. The grand maester was a frail old man, and had been for years. He was another servant of his fathers, dutifully advancing the Lannister agenda on the kings council

"It is done my lords, a little prince, strong and healthy gods be praised." The old man informed them, and Tyrion felt a twinge of pity for the poor boy, having Cersei as a mother was a fate he would wish on no one, not even a Baratheon.

Robert strode into the room, nearly knocking Tyrion over without even noticing, but a steadying hand fell on his shoulder. Tyrion turned to see Jaime smiling down at him, though the smile seemed forced.

"Careful brother, or the stag will prance right over you." Jaime warned, glaring at the kings back. Tyrion could only nod before Jamie strode past him, hand still on the hilt of his sword and his white cloak billowing around him.

 _'Don't do anything foolish Jaime.'_ Once all the others had gone through the door, Tyrion followed, standing at the edge of the room, next to his uncle.

Gerion leaned down to whisper in his ear, and Tyrion could practically feel the grin on his uncle's face. "Watch closely Tyrion, you're witnessing the beginning of a new dynasty. This is history in the making."

Tyrion didn't think there was anything particularly historic about the birth. The boy didn't look any different from other babes, he was chubby and pink, suckling at his sisters breast already. Cersei looked exhausted, and with good reason looking at the size of the boy's head. He almost felt sorry for the bitch.

Robert looked quite proud of himself, even though his contribution was surely no hardship; Personality issues aside, Cersei was a woman any man would boast of after spending an evening with her.

Stannis stood a little behind him, his expression more at ease than Tyrion had ever seen it. Even though he was only in his early twenties, Stannis Baratheon could rival Tywin when it came to willpower. He was still gaunt from the long, hungry siege of Storms End. Tyrion couldn't help but wonder how they had prepared their rat feasts in the mighty castle.

Renly stood at his brothers side, small and frightened by the bloody rags left over from the birthing. The poor boy was already lord of the storm lands, and rumor had it there was much unrest in the southern portion of his lands. The boy looked to be in far better shape than his brother, the little lord probably ate the biggest rats.

The boy stopped suckling and Robert walked to the bedside and held his hands out for the boy. Cersei glared at him, but handed the babe over without complaint. The babe twisted a fist in the Kings wild black beard, and Robert laughed. The babe giggled in response.

Stannis walked across the room, clearing it in long strides and standing next to his elder brother inspected his nephew.

"The boy's a Baratheon, no doubt. Just look at those eyes, just like fathers." Stannis mused, and Robert laughed once again. Tyrion noticed how Jaime's teeth clenched and his hands tensed at the words, and felt an odd sense of foreboding.

 _'What have you done Jaime, why does this boy infuriate you so?'_ He wondered, and he saw Gerion observing his brother as well. The laughing lion turned to Stannis, who was kneeling to let Renly have a closer look at his nephew, and addressed the young master of ships.

"He has your looks, but hopefully he has Lannister wits, wouldn't that make for a fine prince?" Gerion asked the room, and Pycelle chuckled in agreement. Stannis looked confused as to whether he was being mocked or not, but simply settled for grinding his teeth. His default expression apparantly.

Gerion held his hands out to Robert and the king handed the boy over to Gerion who pulled a face at the babe, making him giggle.

"You'll be a fierce little lion won't you? I think I'll call you cub, is that alright?" Gerion asked, and Tyrion was unsure whether he was serious or not. The babe gurgled, and Gerion mimicked the sound, as though responding. "Guess that settles it. You're the cub." Gerion glanced at Tyrion and started to kneel.

He could see Cersei's frown deepen into a mask of hatred and disgust. Pycelle's eyes narrowed as Gerion's knee rested on the ground. The Baratheons were all watching him closely, even little Renly.

Tyrion's experiences with babies was limited, most began to cry when they saw his stunted body and deformed face. He supposed his appearance was quite frightening to young, vulnerable people. He expected this one would be no different, and with Cersei molding the boy, Tyrion suspected he would begin making his life miserable as soon as he could speak.

But as he came face to face with the boy, Tyrion saw no fear in the babes shocking blue eyes, like shards of ice, only curiosity. The boy gurgled for him just as he had for the rest of his family, but as Gerion began to stand once again, the boy reached out a hand and rested his palm on Tyrion's jutting brow.

Tyrion heard Cersei gasp and saw Jaime's frown deepen. Even Robert looked surprised, but laughed all the same.

"I guess my boy likes you Imp, good, it wouldn't be sporting for me to kill you anyway." Robert bellowed, handing Tyrion his own wineskin, "Drink boy, celebrate this fine day." Robert ordered, and Tyrion took a sip of the wine, a sour Dornish red and almost gagged. "Ahh, we'll get you used to wine eventually, won't we Gerion?"

"If his grace commands." Gerion Lannister answered with a grin. He then stood and held the babe out to Jaime, who regarded the babe with distaste.

 _'Why do you hate this boy Jaime, when you've liked even me?'_ Tyrion wondered, watching as the boy giggled at Jaime, reaching up for his face. Jaime handed the boy back to Gerion, who handed him back to Robert.

"Now, a fine prince like this needs a name... And I know just the one." Robert told the men, examining the boy closer. The king had not looked so kingly to Tyrion since his coronation. Perhaps there was something special about this birth after all.

Cersei leaned up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. "I thought we could name him Joffrey, it's a good strong name-" She was cut off as Robert turned to face her.

"Then it'll do for the next one." Robert told her flatly, shutting her down. "I've known his name since before I knew you woman. This is prince Kurai Baratheon, first of his name. Someday he will be king of the Andals and the Rhoyner and the First Men, and perhaps even more." The King told those gathered, and Tyrion was surprised at how thick with emotion Roberts voice was, he'd only ever heard amusement or rage in the mans voice.

The name was interesting, it wasn't a Westeros name... Perhaps Essos or the Summer Isles. ' _Why Robert would choose that name for his heir? He must have his reasons I suppose'_ The look on Cersei's face was far more interesting than the name itself however. His sister was furious, she was clutching the sheets harshly, and Jaime's hand had once again fallen to his sword.

"Oh this does not bode well…" Tyrion mumbled, and surprisingly Stannis looked down at him and grunted in agreement, taking the wineskin and drinking from it deeply. The young master of ships took Renly by the hand and after bidding his elder brother good-bye, left the birthing room; his little brother struggling to keep up with the taciturn man's great strides.

Kurai had begun to whimper in the meantime, and Robert quickly handed him back to his mother. The boy's small hand pawed at Cersei, and she brought the boy to her breast again. Tyrion watched the scene with distaste, he hadn't know babes could survive off of poison, or whatever Cersei's body produced.

"Well Tyrion?" His Uncle asked, settling on his haunches to look the dwarf in the eye. "We aught get back to the Rock, I'm sure my brother has started to miss our company by now." Gerion staed, starting to stand.

"Nuncle." Tyrion said, looking up at the tall, blonde man, "I think I would like to stay in King's Landing for a time, would that be alright?"

Gerion stroked his chin, "I suppose, as long as Jaime is willing to supervise you." He said, and Tyrion turned to look at his older brother, who simply shrugged. Tyrion took that for a yes and nearly jumped for joy. He would take advantage of the boys budding affection for him and make himself indispensable. Perhaps he could even become a member of the small council someday.

That would show all those who had mocked him, they wouldn't be able to talk down to him then.

"Very well Tyrion, I suppose that'll be alright, I'll stop by next time I bring the lion into port. You can tell me all about your adventures in the big city." Gerion told him, ruffling his hair. "Perhaps I'll send Tyg up here, old boy could use a vacation from the Rock, wouldn't you agree?"

Tygett Lannister was a bitter, generally angry man who had despised his eldest brother practically all his life. Tywin Lannister had always been the greatest of his brothers, and each brother had handled that different; some better than others. Tygett hated the shadow he lived in with every waking moment, yet he had always been kind to Tyrion.

"Anyway Tyrion, be careful. Court can be a scary place for one so young and small." Gerion told him, before giving Robert an exaggerated bow and exiting.

Tyrion, seeing that no one was likely to need or want him in the room any longer left as well, heading towards his own suite. As a Lannister he was entitled to the finest living arrangements in the castle, as a dwarf he was not. So he found himself in a room somewhere in between. It was not spacious, but it was cozy at least, with a thick carpet and a large bed. There was a decent sized desk next to a window and a larger table in a corner. A tall wardrobe stood against one wall, filled with his tailored tunics and trousers, all done in crimson and gold. It would be nice to be his own man for a while, even if he had little real power.

But to be in kings landing, amoungst the high lords of the kingdom and the small council, surely that was a step up from the dark halls of Casterly Rock. Here he could finally make something of himself, maybe he could even learn to fight like Jaime now that he was in the presence of some of the finest warriors in the kingdom.

He could even get himself a sworn sword, someone to serve him. His name would carry weight, even if his appearance did not.

But such things would have to wait, he had all the time in the world to begin his climb, for now he would rest, and begin his life on the morrow.

/ / / / / / / /

Cersei

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She ached, that was the only word for it. Her womb ached, her belly ached, everything ached; especially her heart. All that pain, and the boy wasn't even his.

All through her pregnancy she had prayed to the mother that her child would be Jaime's, the irony of it was not lost on her, but that was what she wanted. Some part of her knew it was Roberts whelp in her belly, but she just couldn't shake the hope that it would be Jaime's. Even when Jaime brought her the moon potion to terminate her pregnancy she couldn't bear the thought of killing her brothers child, if the boy was his. He had almost convinced her, but something had held her back.

Now she ground her teeth as she looked into the blue eyes of her son, only a little over a day old. The boy was healthy, perfectly healthy, which was infuriating. This should be hers and Jaime's son, this perfect baby should have golden blonde hair and fierce green eyes. Instead he looked completely Baratheon, A constant reminder she had let that oaf spill his seed inside her when all she wanted was Jaime, Jaime who filled her so perfectly.

She heard the heavy footsteps of her husband, the rebel king. She had thought him quite handsome when they were wed, and even for a short time after that, until she heard him say that Stark girls name as he climaxed. He had shamed her far more than anyone else with that one whispered word. He seemed to resent her for being married to him, and from what she understood he had been quite the whoremonger during the war, and now that he was not welcome between her legs, was becoming once again, let him. She had Jaime, that was all she would ever need.

Robert came through the door and stood beside their bed. He looked at their son with fatherly pride, as though he really had anything to do with it, she had spent an entire day birthing him, not this fool.

"I have decided to hold a tourney to select our sons sworn sword, do you have any objections?" He asked cautiously, and she snorted. As if he would heed anything she said, but it was a game that had to be played.

"I would suggest one of my uncles or cousins." Cersei put forward, and Robert waved a hand at her, as though knocking her words away.

"I know you would, but I don't need another lion surrounding me. You would pick someone from your family just as I would choose someone from mine, a tourney is the only neutral way I can think to choose someone." She supposed there was merit to that, but she would never let him know that.

"Do whatever you want, I know you will anyway." She responded and Robert laughed a hollow laugh and drank deeply from a flagon of arbor gold.

"Your claws are sharp woman, as befits a Lannister I suppose. Don't bother waiting up for me." He told her striding out of the room, still drinking from the flagon. The pardoned ser Barriston Selmy and ser Mandon Moore followed him.

Cersei wanted to scream and rage at the casual dismissal, but she held that back as her handmaidens came in, carrying a basket of fruit and a tray of sweetmeats. She would hold her tongue for now, but she would win this battle of marriage, she would win it one inch at a time, undermine her husbands power. She would have more children, but never again from Robert. She would only take Jaime's seed from now on, the sooner the better. That child would sit the Iron Throne, not Kurai, not her dark son. Cersei took a peach from the basket and bit into it, the sweet juices flooding her mouth.

For now however, she would have to play the dutiful queen.

/ / / / / / / / /

284 AC

Cersei

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Cersei sat on her throne in the tourney grounds, Kurai in the clutches of her handmaidens and her belly swelling with another child, this one was defiantly Jaime's; she had made sure of it. The tournament to choose Kurai's sworn sword had to be pushed back four years as the realm recovered from the war, but now every lord in the seven kingdoms had assembled to compete for a most advantageous position as well as celebrate the boy's naming day

Knights of every kingdom had come to attend, hedge knights battled high lords knights for the right to guard her son, even the powerful wardens put forth their knights in the tourney. Below her stood four massive, long tables, and at the head of each table sat a warden.

Her Father, Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Shield of Lannisport sat regally at his table, his brothers Kevin and Gerion on either side of him. Her Father was a regal as ever sitting at the head of his bannermen, his body strong as an ox and his mind sharp as any sword.

At the head of the next table sat Jon Arryn, Warden of the East and Hand of the King, along with his wife Lysa Tully; the girl was not particularly beautiful or intelligent, she wasn't even able to properly bare children, yet Cersei could not scorn the girl much; for her marriage was even more loveless than her own. At least Robert was young and at times amusing, the poor girl didn't even have that. Jon Arryn had made her queen as much as she hated to admit it, she owed the man that, but it didn't change that he was a dreadfully boring man

At the next high table sat Lord Mace Tyrell, the man of many titles, Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, High Marshall of the Reach and Defender of the Marches to name a few. He was an oaf, but a powerful oaf. His army was the only one to defeat Roberts in the field, though by all accounts it was his bannerman, Lord Randyll Tarly who had won the battle. Lord Tarly sat to Mace Tyrells left while Lord Paxter Redwyne sat to his right. The Redwynes were masters of the arbor, from which came the finest wines in the seven kingdoms, making them a very wealthy and powerful family.

Last in the line of tables stood the table of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. At his right sat her husband and why shouldn't he? That man was his greatest friend in all the seven kingdoms, his true loves blood. All the tales she had heard of the man led to believe he had unshakable integrity; well, save for the ones involving his bastard child, fathered while he was at war.

 _'Humph, no wonder he and Robert are so close.'_ She mused, glancing at Lady Stark. She couldn't help scowling at the woman who'd also tasted the shame of infidelity, but her and Lord Stark still seemed close as newly weds; did the woman have no pride at all? At least Robert kept his whoring out of her sight, he certainly wouldn't dare bring one of his bastards home, she wouldn't have allowed it; Lord Stark on the other hand was apparently planning to raise his bastard and trueborn children together, something that was unheard of for a man of his position.

Still, Cersei doubted the woman accepted her husbands bastard, what real woman would?

"My lady, is something the matter, you don't usually frown...?" One of her handmaidens asked tentatively, and Cersei quickly schooled her features, it wouldn't do if she turned into some wrinkled hag one day.

"No, no, merely thinking, nothing for you to worry about." She told the girl, smiling gently. The brunette curtsied and backed away to join the other handmaidens who seemed to delight in cooing at her child. The little whelp looked more like his father everyday. He'd grown a head of jet black hair much like his father and uncle's, and his previously ice blue eyes had darkened to midnight blue, or so her handmaidens told her. She didn't like looking at the brats eyes, it seemed as thought they constantly taunted her; and there was a hint of accusation in those eyes, as though the boy could sense her distaste.

 _'I should have just drank the potion Jamie brought that night, what a fool I was...'_ she mused, glancing at her brother who stood a few dozen paces to her left observing the tournament with his beautiful green eyes, _'You'll have those eyes...'_ She thought, rubbing the curve of her belly gently. No matter how excited she was too bear Jaime's child, he wouldn't be heir to the Iron Throne, unless... well, there was still a chance the boy could be taken out by a simple cold; she had time before she'd start thinking up more drastic solutions.

Glaring at the boy, she felt a now familiar rage, _'You may be of my blood, but you're no less a bastard than that Snow boy.'_

/ / / / / / / / / / /

Robert

/ / / / / / / / / / /

"So there I am, one hand wrapped around this Tarly boy's throat and the other filled with this raven headed whore's tits, when five of the lad's friends break the door down-"

"You know Robert, last time you told me this story the lad only had two friends." Ned interrupted, sipping his ale with a wolfish grin, and Robert rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly as Caitlyn giggled into her hand.

"Ah, well you see... sod it Ned, you always ruin my fun..." He mumbled, uncapping his wineskin and drinking deeply.

"From what I hear you've been having a little too much fun, I don't remember you having this gut last time I saw you." Eddard chuckled, leaning over to dig his elbow into Roberts stomach, which he'd admit was no longer as flat and muscled as it had been before he'd become king. Pushing his friend away, Robert scowled.

"Aye, perhaps I've put on a few pounds, but what do you expect. They keep me tied to that damn throne most of the day, waving platters and flagons under my nose all the while-" This time it was Caitlyn's turn to interrupt.

"From what I hear my lord, your escapades to the red light district should be enough to keep you trim." She mused, sipping at her wine with a sly smile, and Robert felt his face flush red. _'Great, he's already taught her how to push my buttons...'_

"I-is that common knowledge...?" he asked, glancing at Cersei to find her glaring at him, but then when wasn't she glaring at him these days. If he tried he could still remember how nice she'd been when he'd first met her, she'd been kind, or as kind as a Lannister could be; But he hadn't been able to get over Lyanna. He still cursed him self for muttering her name while consummating his marriage; perhaps things could have been different between him and Cersei if he hadn't. She was a good queen though, not that he'd ever tell her that, and she'd already borne him an heir, with another on the way; they'd done their duty for the kingdom.

Caitlyn looked over his shoulder, as though pondering his question, "No, not exactly common knowledge, but given this is Kings Landing it shouldn't take long." She told him, and his head drooped.

"Fuck." he muttered, calling for a horn of ale and prying a leg from a nearby roast duck. "We'll catch up more later Ned, unfortunately being king means I have to play host at these things, A pleasure to see you again Lady Stark." he finished, bowing to his closest friends wife. The woman stood and briefly curtsied at him, before sitting back down next to her husband.

As he walked away Robert noticed he did feel a tad more sluggish than usual, 'Maybe Ned's right, I am a little out of shape...' he mused, tearing into his drumstick with slightly less enthusiasm than usual. Moving through the crowds of knights and nobles, he saw many well known warriors, all competing for the honour of being his son's sworn sword; Thoros of Myr was preparing his flaming sword for the upcoming melee round, and a few feet from him a young knight bearing the crest of the Oakhearts polished his lance, preparing for a joust.

Robert felt some pride in his planning of the tourney. Once it had become apparent that the number of contestants would be well into the thousands, he'd decided to hold a unique tournament. Contestant could enter whatever contest they wanted during the first few days, but only one event. Melee's were held in groups of thirty, with the last man standing being declared the victor of that group, while jousts were held in a sort of mini tournament, with the winner among fifty men moving to the next stage, even archers had competitions.

Once the less skilled warriors were weeded out, all the remaining fighters would compete in one bracket. His advisers all seemed to think it was a good idea, but he wouldn't trust their opinions anymore than he'd honestly trust the kingslayer with his life. His gut had told him to simply execute the little oathbreaker, but he hadn't as a wedding gift to Cersei, not that the bitch ever remembered that.

looking at his pavilion he could see him standing there in his gold armour, Looking regal and handsome, even for a lannister.

His thoughts were interrupted by a bouncing, nubile red head who skipped across his path, the girl stopped a little ahead of him and stared wide-eyed at his crown, "Hello my liege." She purred, curtsying and leaning forward, giving him an excellent view of her creamy cleavage. "Congratulations on the prince's name day, I'm sure he'll grow to be just as handsome and strong as his father." She praised, biting her lip and looking up at him, by the gods she couldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall, so tiny compared to him...

"I'm sure he will, I just hope there are still beauties like you prancing around to keep the lad occupied." He nearly growled, setting his half eaten drumstick on a table and wiping his hands on one of the many clothes scattered around the feasting area; before draining his horn and setting that on the table as well.

"Beauties like me?" The girl asked innocently, but Robert could see the devious gleam in her eyes, "My liege is too kind, perhaps he'd allow me to repay him with some kindness of my own?" She asked, her little pink tongue just barely poking out to lick her lips.

"I think your liege would be more than happy to oblige!" he exclaimed, taking the girls hand and leading her towards a more secluded area of the fair grounds, the redhead giggling all the while. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Cersei glaring at him from her seat.

 _'Eh, she's frigid anyway...'_ he mused, groping the girls tits through her blouse.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / /

Stannis

/ / / / / / / / / / / / /

Stannis scowled into his mug as his brother led yet another harlot off to once again break his vows. _'Yet another bastard I'll have to make arrangements for...'_ he thought, tearing into a roll. Glancing at the kings pavilion he saw Cersei scowling in his brothers direction, _'You always did get everything Robert, the castle, the crown, and the pretty girls...'_ glancing at Cersei again he nearly smirked, _'It's poetic that you'd get stuck with one who's only pretty on the outside.'_

"Brother?" Renly asked from his seat next to him, "May I go explore, I'm bored."

"Very well, don't run away from your guards this time Renly, I mean it." Stannis ordered, pouring another mug of ale.

"Thank you brother!" Renly exclaimed, pulling a surprised Stormlands soldier behind him. Sipping his ale, Stannis stood and headed for the massive stands ringing the melee area, a huge field which currently held over a dozen battles. Spotting ser Barriston Selmy, Stannis approached the seasoned warrior, "May I join you ser Barriston?"

The old knight looked up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun with a gauntleted hand, "Of course Lord Stannis, I'd welcome the company in fact."

Sitting down Stannis appraised the warriors battling with a raised eyebrow, killing was discouraged in tourneys, but that hadn't stopped some people from wiping out the competition completely. "Have you seen anyone you think would make a good guard for the prince?" He asked, watching as Thorus of Myr ignited his sword in preparation for a new melee.

"Heh, depends on your definition of good. Some are honourable, most are valorous, quite a few are deadly; but I haven't seen anyone I'd say is particularly good for the job." The knight said, frowning as Gregor Clegane sliced straight through two men with a single sweep of his greatsword.

"No one with a good mix of all three?"

"Not that I've seen." Ser Barriston answered, "But that's too be expected, these men are all fighting for glory."

Stannis sipped his ale contemplatively, "Sounds like you should be down there fighting." He mused, but the veteran knight was already shaking his head.

"Even if I'd been allowed to compete, I wouldn't." Glancing over, the knight explained, "There was only one prince who I would have competed for, and while I'm bound to protect this one, I do not love him."

Stannis raised an eyebrow, "Your name is well earned, Barriston the Bold indeed." Looking down into one of the thinning melee groups, he saw a streak of silver weaving through the crowd, redirecting blows and tripping one of the many heavily armoured knights.

"Humph, only a fool would wear such heavy plate in a battle like that." Barriston commented, "I'd have tripped him too." Stannis watched as people began tripping over the downed knight, who lay on his back like a turtle, weighed down by what must have been nearly a hundred pounds of plate alone. Stannis watched as the warrior who'd tripped the knight locked blades with a grizzled looking hedge knight in chainmail wielding a long, if slightly rusted blade. The youth wielded two blades, one a longsword, and the other a long dueling knife which he kept sheathed horizontally on his back. Drawing the knife he placed it against the knights throat, disarming him as the knight was distracted and forcing him to yield.

"He's young." Stannis muttered, and Barriston nodded as the youth disarmed another warrior and forced him out of the pit at sword point.

"Aye, and skilled. His technique is unusually refined, see how he manipulates his opponents momentum so cleanly; that's a man who's probably trained his whole life." The lord commander muttered, his eyes narrowed in appraisal as the youth dueled one of the many heavily armoured knights. "I think he's spent a lot of time training for single combat, not warfare; he's probably from Essos. That's pretty common over there."

Stannis grunted in agreement, glancing back at Gregor Clegane who continued to dominate his own melee group. _'Speed and dexterity versus strength and an unshakable defence... Robert's tournament are always entertaining if nothing else.'_

/ / / / / / / / / / /

Tyrion

/ / / / / / / / / / /

Tyrion sat high in the stands watching the final rounds of the tournament along with the entire upper class of Westeros, sipping from a pilfered wineskin he could feel the palpable excitement of the crowd, and with good reason. Three days of fierce competition had led to this moment, the final duel of the tourney. The Mountain that Rides, Gregor Clegane, against the so called 'Silver Streak' Muro Oswald, a relatively unknown fighter who'd shocked everyone with his breakout performance.

Many speculated that he had the blood of old Valyria in his veins, while other's thought it was some sort of dye to add an element of mystery, but everyone agreed the youth would make a fine sworn sword, at least from a martial standpoint; Tyrion couldn't help but think he would be the better choice even from a political standpoint. Gregor was a mad dog, everyone knew it, but more importantly his father Tywin held the leash; and he was already the most powerful lord in the seven kingdoms, if his servant were the princes sworn sword it would grant him even more influence.

Of course there were many who thought the prince descended from one of Westeros's great houses should have a warrior from Westeros as his vassal, not an unknown foreign warrior. A cheer went up as Muro stepped onto the field from his black cloth pavilion. _'Humph, shame that's going over everyone's heads...'_ Tyrion mused, thinking back to a conversation he'd had with Robert a few weeks after Kurai's birth.

/ / / / / / / / / / / /

 _"C'mon Imp, finish it off!" Robert cheered as Tyrion gulped huge mouthfuls of dornish red from a large wineskin while Gerion laughed across from him, having returned to kings landing earlier that day to check on him. "Told you we'd make a wine drinker out of you boy!" Squeezing the skin, Tyrion forced the last of the wine down his throat and slammed the skin on the long table set up in the great hall, gasping and clutching his belly, but brimming with pride. "Atta boy!" Robert shouted, slapping him on the back and gulping wine from his own skin._

 _"I didn't think you had it in you to be honest." Gerion laughed, "You're going to have a hell of a time in the morning though nephew!" The laughing lion exclaimed._

 _"Bah, I'll have Pycelle whip up some potion or another. Don't worry about the hangover boy, that' no way to live life." Robert said with a grin._

 _Tyrion snorted, "Easy to say when you never stop drinking." He quipped, and the king laughed uproariously, slapping a huge hand on the table a few times._

 _"You may be half the size of a normal man Imp; but you more than make up for it with that mind of yours!" The king exclaimed, ripping off a huge chunk of mutton and tearing into it. Tyrion grinned back at the king. Never would he have expected to share a meal with the king, let alone joke with the man so openly. The fact that it pissed Cersei off only seemed to encourage the king, which was a bonus to Tyrion as well. "Well Imp, a bet's a bet, ask your question." the king told him, and Tyrion took a deep breath._

 _"Where does the name Kurai come from?" He asked, and Gerions smile faded, replaced by curiosity._

 _Robert sighed, wiping a greasy hand on his tunic and looking at them with as serious a face as Tyrion had ever seen on the man. "I suppose I should have figured that would be what you'd ask. It's valryian, only word I can ever remember, not because of any language studies of course. I named him for a mentor of mine from the Eyrie. He was my instructer when Jon Arryn was unavailable, and a harder man than I've ever known." The king paused to sip from his ale horn, something Tyrion had never seen him do. "Once, when I was about your age Imp, we went hunting in a swamp not far from the Eyrie and he was bit by a snake; sod if I can remember what kind. Anyway, he pulled the thing out of his hand, got him in the pinky and ring ones, and he just sorta stared at it for a moment."_

 _"It was poisonous I presume?" Gerion asked, munching on a buttery roll._

 _Robert nodded his head, "Aye, one of the bad ones. He threw the little bastard away and held his other hand out to me, and I'll never forget what he said, 'I'll need to borrow your knife Robert'" The king drew the knife in question and laid it on the table so they could see its sharpness. "It's valaryian steel, sharp as the day he used it."_

 _Tyrion had felt his eyes widen as he pieced it together, "He didn't..." he mumbled, but Robert was nodding._

 _"He did. Chopped them off right there in the woods, absolutely no hesitation." The King told them, holding his hand up and wiggling his own ring and pinky fingers. "I've seen men who've had to do the same thing since, but never like that. He took something he'd had his whole life, tools he'd used his whole life; and he jut discarded them. And I don't think he ever even thought of trying to get them treated. Hell, he even buried them!" the king exclaimed_

 _"I wouldn't want to meet a man who could do that..." Gerion muttered, taking a swig of ale._

 _"What does it mean? the name I mean, in valryian?" Tyrion asked, and Robert stroked his beard._

 _"I asked the same, but its not an easily translated word, he told me it would be something like dark, or darkness even, one of those contextual things." The king told them, reaching for a flagon of wine._

 _"What happened to this mentor of yours?" Tyrion asked, and the king sighed once again, tapping his crown._

 _"He died so I could get this. It was during the Battle of the Bells, In Stoney Sept. After Ned and Jon arrived to link up with me, when we were fighting Jon Connington, I'd been wounded and I was fighting ser Myles Mooton, you might recognize the name, he was a well known Knight. Anyway, Mooton almost did me in right there, but Kurai stepped in. He lost his life in that fight, but he probably saved mine." the king sighed a third time, "So I decided to honour him with something a little more personal than having a few drinks in his name."_

 _/ / / / / / / / / / / / /_

Snapping back to the present, Tyrion watched Muro warm up at the edge of the field, stretching languidly in the lightest of light leathers, stained black like his pavilion. ' _If he is of valaryian blood, I suppose it makes sense he'd know what the name means._ ' Tyrion mused. At the other end of the field Gregor Clegane was being suited up in his fortress like armour. Most of the crowd was in awe of the giant warrior, who apparently weighed almost four-hundred pounds on his own, and according to his uncle Tygrett the armour added an additional three-hundred or so pounds; turning the man into a colossal, nigh invincible, war machine.

As the two fighters took their places in a large fenced off arena, Tyrion felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find his Father Tywin, along with his Uncles Gerion and Tygett, who looked as stormy as ever. "Tyrion, I thought I'd find you high up here." Tywin said, sitting down beside him, looking every bit the regal lord he was. Tyrion grit his teeth at the veiled insult, but didn't reply.

"I've never seen anyone come close to beating Gregor in a duel, have you brother?" Gerion asked Tygett, but Tywin interrupted.

"Clegane is the ultimate weapon of house Lannister because he's nigh unbeatable Gerion." Tywin informed his brother, Tyrion saw his uncle Tygett grind his teeth and he truly felt for his uncle. He'd spent his life in Tywin's shadow, no matter how hard he tried to escape, something he himself could easily relate too.

"Still though, have you see this Muro fight? He's the fastest thing I've ever seen." Gerion informed Tywin, who arched a golden eyebrow.

"Even so, how could he match a monster like Clegane, run around until one of them in exhausted?" Tywin asked sarcastically.

Tygett grunted, crossing his arms, "If anyone were going to defeat Clegane, that's how it would have to be done; no one can match his strength." Tywin frowned at his second youngest brother, but seemed to consider his opinion. Tygett was recognized as the most martially skilled of the four brothers, and his word on such matters carried weight, "I'd wear leather too if I were in his position, maybe even just a tunic and breeches; Clegane's likely to chop through any armour a normal person could wear anyway."

Tyrion looked at the huge blade one of Clegane's squires struggled to hold with both arms, the blade must have been six feet long at least; and combined with his massive strength it very likely would cut through any sort of practical armour. Standing at nearly nine feet tall fully armoured, Gregor loomed above the silver haired youth as they shook hands.

 _'By the seven... he looks huge enough to simply crush him with his hands.'_ Tyrion thought, and looking at Muro's sword and dagger he wondered how he planned to pierce Gregor's heavy plate.

Gerion tapped him on the shoulder, and pointing towards Gregors pavilion, "See that fellow there behind Gregor's squires?" Tyrion nodded, "That's Gregor's younger brother, Sandor."

"The one with the burns?" Tyrion asked, sitting up to peer at the man more closely.

"Aye, and they say Gregor's the one who burned him. Now if he's willing to do that to his brother, just think of what he'll do to this kid..." Gerion trailed off, and Tyrion found he didn't want to imagine it.

Sitting in the Kings Pavilion on the other side of the tourney grounds, Robert brought a horn to his lips and blew out a trumpet call to signal the beginning of the fight. Gregor unsheathed his huge blade and advanced on Muro, who stood calmly, his sword pointed at the ground. As Gregor made the first strike, the silver haired fighter simply jumped back from the blade, dashing around Clegane's left side as his swing's momentum carried him forward, and attempted to stab his sword into a chink in Gregor's armour; but the giant didn't stay still long enough to give him a chance, lashing out with a back hand that looked as though it could have shattered stone.

Muro ducked under the strike, slashing at the back of Gregor's hand, but his blade merely bounced off his heavy gauntlet. Jumping back from another strike, Muro backtracked from The Mountain, forcing him to lumber after him in his bulky suit.

"Kids playing smart." Tygett commented, leaning forward to examine the fight more closely, "As long as he doesn't fuck up he'll win." his uncle spectated, and sure enough as the duel dragged on, Gregor's swings became more wild as his fury took over, eventually becoming ragged as he exhausted himself swinging at the agile figure who pranced around him gleefully.

Tyrion took great joy in the way his father's face began to pale as Gregor's swings moved further and further off target, and judging by the grin splitting his uncle Tygett's face he was enjoying Tywins dog being brought to heel.

Gregor's sword dragged along the ground as he approached Muro, trudging along slowly; no doubt fatigued from the massive weight he bore. Tyrion noticed the crowd had gone silent, and why wouldn't they, The Mountain was crumbling and they had front row seats. But most surprising was the Mountain's brother, Sandor, who's mutilated face had twisted into a grin as he watched his brother being so handily defeated.

Despite the mountain's size, Muro had captured the crowds attention, he rolled, ducked, and dashed; the crowd seemed to gasp with every dodge, but that didn't compare to the Silver haired youth's real strategy, taunting the mountain and enraging him, even exhausted the giant roared with rage at his opponent, who was now mad dogging the mad dog of the westerlands. Dashing in and jumping back when Gregor attempted to strike him.

"Your bark may be scary, but a good guard dog needs to be able to bite." Muro taunted, his voice carrying over the silent crowd, "Would you all like to see my bite?" he asked the crowd, holding his arms wide and spinning to take in all the onlookers who cheered.

Gerion chuckled, "Heh, he's cocky, but its well within his right."

Tygett grunted in response, "This is what happens when you're too good too young, one day he'll taunt someone who doesn't have a glaring weakness like Clegane; Barriston Selmy would probably make mincemeat out of the kid, hell, the smiling knight would have killed him a dozen times already."

Tyrion looked down at the knight in question, sitting next to Stannis Baratheon a dozen levels down the stands.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Stannis

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

 _'Looks like speed wins out over strength..._ ' Stannis mused, biting into an apple. _'Tywin Lannister is probably shitting a gold brick right about now.'_

Next to him Barriston Selmy had his eyes trained on the fight, narrowed in concentration as he followed the fighter's movements.

Swallowing, Stannis nudged the old warrior slightly, "Tell me ser Barriston, how would you battle someone like Clegane?"

Barriston chuckled, "I wouldn't if I could help it. He isn't someone you can fight with a traditional style, but if it was an option I'd go without armour or shield; but I'm sure every knight in the stands is thinking that right now. That's only half the battle though. The real way to beat Clegane is too out-think him," The knight said, tapping his temple with his pointer and middle fingers, "Staying two steps ahead of him is the only way to counter someone who basically amounts to a humanoid war machine." Barriston paued momentarily here, "Of course it's easier said than done, it takes incredible mental focus to manipulate Clegane into attacking you without actually letting him attack you."

"I see... still, I'm sure many people here are relieved to see someone beat the mountain, or at least come close too it." Stannis said, but Barriston was shaking his head.

"They shouldn't be, this Muro's skill set is perfect for dealing with Clegane, its not something most or perhaps any knight in the seven kingdoms could replicate, it's a mismatch." the knight told him, sitting up straight and crossing his arms. "Some fools going to get the idea to challenge Clegane to a fight dressed in nothing but his small clothes and get himself killed; mark my words."

The crowd cheered as Muro mocked Gregor, drawing his knife and stepping around the massive knight in a wide circle, waiting for an opening. The Mountain swung his sword at him, but the slow, almost clumsy blow was easily dodged. A moment later, Muro stood behind Gregor with his sword point dug under the Mountains massive, fisted helm, pointed up at the base of his scull.

In that instant the entire crowd held it's breath as Gregor stood, towering above Muro, defeated. Then Robert blew his horn and pandemonium broke out over the field.

Muro removed his sword from the mountain and began to walk back towards his pavilion, dropping to his knees as Gregor swung his blade in a sweeping arc, aiming to bisect him from behind. The crowd shouted in outrage at the dirty trick, none louder than Robert himself. Muro dove away from the lumbering Gregor, standing and quickly back tracking to put some distance between himself and the enraged Mountain.

"TYWIN!" The king bellowed, and Stannis felt the power of his brothers battlefield voice, and he could see many of the men who'd fought in Robert's rebellion tense, they could still remember the roaring stormlord crushing Rheager at the trident, "REIGN IN YOUR DOG!"

Following Robert's gaze over his shoulder, Stannis took in the rare sight of a truly shocked Tywin Lannister, but as fast as it came it was gone, and the Lord of Casterly Rock was striding down the stands towards his bannerman.

"Clegane!" Tywin's voice cut through the uproar like a whip, "Cease this at once!" The knight screamed in rage, the sound echoing in his cavernous helm, throwing his sword to the ground and storming off the grounds, ripping his helm off and throwing it at one of his squire's, striking the poor boy in the face and knocking him right off his feet.

"Humph, so that's the type of man who passes for a knight these days." Barriston muttered, standing and crossing the field to join the gathering kingsguard around Robert.

Striding behind the legendary knight, Stannis snorted, "So it would seem."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / /

Jaime

/ / / / / / / / / / / / /

Leaning against a pillar in the kings pavilion, Jaime arched an eyebrow as the so called 'Silver Streak' finally wore down Gregor enough to force him to yield.

 _'Heh, someone finally brought down the mountain... maybe I'll have to have a spar with this Muro fellow.'_ Jaime mused, watching his father stride proudly across the field to stop Gregor's rampage. _'That'll stick in father's craw, he wanted so badly to have one of his men so close to the prince. Maybe this fellow can be of use though, not many men can resist father's influence.'_

Glancing at Cersei he couldn't help feeling disappointed, it would have been so simple to just have Gregor bash the little whelps head in like that Targaryan brat. Looking at the boy, surrounded by his sisters hand maidens, he felt disgust rise in him. He was a constant reminder of that oaf Robert's violation of his sister. Jaime knew he should have forced the moon potion down his sisters throat, but she'd let her womanly instincts cloud her judgement; but that mistake had hardened her. She never even let the king near her during the fertile part if her cycle.

 _'I swear, I'll make sure this child is the one who sits on the throne; I've killed a king, what's a prince to someone like me?'_ Jaime thought, scoffing. Kingslayer. That's what they all called him, not always to his face, but he knew it was what they all thought. Old Barriston Selmy was one of the more vocal, the lord commader was always saying he should trade in his white cloak for a black one..', if the fool only knew how much shame was really on the kingsguard for letting a man like Aerys sit the throne for so long.

He could see Barriston striding towards the king with that gargoyle Stannis behind him, he could even see Tyrion rushing behind them on stunted legs between his uncles Tygett and Gerion. his little brother looked as though he was struggling to reach the pavilion before Muro swore his oath to the king and toddler prince. It infuriated his sister to no end that Tyrion seemed to amuse the boy to no end, but anything Tyrion did was likely to infuriate his sister.

Pushing off from the pillar, he began walking to join the other Kingsguard, standing next to ser Borus Blount, a damn craven if there ever was. _'I guess oathbreaking is a greater sin than cowardice.'_ he thought grimly. A larger group of high lords gathered around the kings guard, including the wardens and their most powerful bannermen, all watching as Robert took the prince from Cersei's handmaidens and gestured for Muro to come over to him.

"Kneel." Robert commanded, holding his son and appraising the youth. "Muro Oswald, correct?" He asked, and the silver haired boy nodded, "Do you accept the honour of being the crown prince's sworn sword, tasked to serve and protect him as long as your service is required?"

"I do my liege." The youth replied from his kneeling position, head bowed.

"Why?" The king asked, and Muro looked up at him questioningly, "Oh come on now, you can't expect me to not be curious as to why someone from Essos would want to pledge his life to the prince of Westeros." Jaime heard the assembled lords muttering to one another, the king did raise a good point.

"Well... to be completely honest with you my liege, I'm here for the job security." The youth said, and Jaime snorted, drawing disapproving looks from those assembled.

"Oh come on, none of you can honestly say you were expecting that." he addressed the gathered lords, crossing his arms. Cersei smiled behind her hand from her seat and Jamie grinned at her.

"Job security?" Barriston Selmy asked, and Muro nodded as though it were the most common thing.

"Yes, the most likely way I'd lose my job would be if the prince died, so I'd have vested interest in protecting him; and since I've already proven my skill, you all know I'm capable of stopping almost anyone who wanted to harm the prince." Muro explained, and Jaime had to admit he was persuasive, if blunt. "I may be a foreigner, but it wouldn't be in my best interest to plot against the prince." he continued, shrugging a little.

"He does have a point Robert... but still, we can't rule out some ulterior motive." Stannis said, staring at the silver haired fighter, who looked back at him evenly.

"Bah, you've always been such a cynic Stannis," Robert blew his brother off, waving his hand dismissively, and Stannis ground his teeth, but said nothing. "You've accepted the honour, now swear your oath, and make it a good one." Robert ordered, and Muro narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Hmm... I swear to put Prince Kurai's life before my own, and to keep his interests above mine own in all things."

Robert sighed, "That'll do I suppose, couldn't you have made it a little more... dramatic maybe?" The king asked, and now it was Eddard Starks turn to snort. Jaime glared at the northern lord, but most of the assembled lords chuckled as Robert turned to glare at the wolf lord, though with no real fire behind it. "Care to weigh in Ned?"

"When you host a tourney you have to be prepared for anyone to win, you're honour bound to give him the position." Lord Stark said with a shrug and Robert nodded.

 _'Chuckles for the self-righteous prick, disapproval for the kingslayer, figures.'_ he mused, as Robert turned back to the still kneeling fighter.

"Very well, you'll be monitored by the kingsguard of course until I'm satisfied with your loyalty. I assume that'll appease you Stannis?" Robert asked, turning to his surprised looking brother. The stoic master-of-ships nodded curtly, Robert held out his free arm too his side, "Then it's decided, now, who's ready to feast!" The king shouted, his voice carrying over the grounds, and the crowd cheered in response. Handing off the prince too his new guard, Robert called for servants to begin moving long tables and vast quantities of food and drink to the melee grounds.

 _'He may be an oaf, but no one can say Robert Baratheon isn't well loved by his subjects...'_ Jaime mused, calling over a servant bearing a flagon of wine and grabbing a goblet from one of the tables in the kings pavilion. _'I wonder how that oath will hold up against the gold of Casterly Rock'_ Sipping his wine Jaime glared at the prince as Muro carried him to the side of the crowded Pavilion, a few of Cersei's servants following behind him, chattering with the youth, who smiled back pleasantly enough.

 _'People will read all sorts of things about a smile if you let them, and he looks like someone who's an expert when it comes to smiling.'_ Jaime thought, looking in the young mans eyes, which didn't quite match the rest of his face.

/ / / / / / / / / / /

AN: Alrighty, I hope you enjoyed this Pilot chapter, I certainly had fun writing it. I'm trying to write in different style than I'm used too with this fic, since my usual domain is in anime fanfiction there's room for a bit more goofiness, but Song of Ice and fire is more of a serious domain, with more uh... witty humour than situational I guess. I tried my best to stay in keeping with the characters, but keep in mind Kurai's born I 283AC, roughly sixteen years before the books, so the characters are younger and will of course be different from what their older counterparts are like. For instance Eddard and Robert are still young men and not as estranged as in their first meeting at Winterfell in Game of Thrones.

Anyway, this is just a pilot, so if people like it I could continue, but if its not really popular it'll go on the back burner while I work on my other fics. If you have time to leave a review I would really appreciate the feedback.

Thanks for reading :D


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